


A Not-So-Angry Bird

by funkmetalalchemist



Category: Angry Birds (Video Game), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, How did it end up like this?, I Don't Even Know, It started out as a joke, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkmetalalchemist/pseuds/funkmetalalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a bird. Derek is a pig. Stiles doesn't understand why they can't just get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Not-So-Angry Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catleesi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catleesi/gifts).



> I, uh. I'm really sorry. One day I made a joke about a Sterek Angry Birds AU and then someone made a graphic and then someone wrote a summary of a potential fic and I ended up writing this and I don't know. I just don't know. I never thought I would write a crack fic but here we are.  
> I don't have anything to say.  
> Except "sorry".

Stiles gave an exasperated sigh as he made his way over to the slingshot. Finstock, a large and exceptionally angry Eagle had been working the group especially hard today. Stiles looked down at his ruffled red feathers. He wasn't cut out for this. His other teammates, Jackson, Lydia, Danny, even his best friend, Scott, all had special abilities. He had none. He was just a bird. He wasn't even that angry, a trait that his coach insisted was necessary in order to be a successful pig-killer. But here they were, like every day, waiting in line to be sent via that damn slingshot over to go terrorize some pigs.

“You okay, man?” Scott nudged Stiles with his large beak. Scott was a boomerang bird who seemed to have a habit of coming back before he’d even hit anything. The only plus side to this was that every once in a while, his trajectory would be just shitty enough that it would align him with Jackson, who would be comically thrown into the air. Jackson was a large black bird who had a tendency to be a bit more explosive than others of his kind. He’d been bullying Scott and Stiles for years. Not to mention, Jackson had nabbed the bird of Stiles’ dreams, Lydia. Beautiful little Lydia and her beautiful blue feathers and her beautiful (and admittedly weird) ability to split into multiple birds. And she completely ignored him. Who could blame her? She was amazing and he was, well, Stiles.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. Just thinking.” Stiles paused. “Why do we attack the pigs, Scott?”

Scott looked confused. “Well, they- they stole our eggs. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, yeah, but why do we attack them? Why don’t we take them to court or something? Like, destroying random pigs’ homes isn’t the answer here. Don’t we have any sort of judicial system? I dunno, man. It’s just… weird, is all.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess so. I mean, they must have us do it for a reason, though.” Scott insisted, taking a step forward as the line moved ahead.

“I guess. I just think, I don’t know, maybe someone should talk to them.” Stiles said, moving up another space. It was almost his turn.

“Well, why don’t you try?” Scott asked, a dopey smile gracing his face. “You’re almost up. Just aim somewhere soft and talk to one of them.”

“I don’t know if they’d take too kindly to that, Scott. I mean, they hate us, don’t they?”

They were interrupted by a sharp screech from Finstock. The elder bird approached the boys, wings on his hips.

“Stilinski! Just what the hell are you doing? It’s your turn! Climb up there and take out some pigs!” Finstock shouted at Stiles, shoving him in the direction of the dauntingly large slingshot.

Stiles turned to look at Scott, who was smiling encouragingly and giving him what Stiles approximated to a thumbs up (though it really just looked like a bunch of feathers).

“Sure thing, Coach.” Stiles said, a frown setting in on his beak. He flipped up onto the slingshot and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, as if some sort of outside force were controlling him, he was pulled back. Then, he was flying.

Flying was the only part Stiles liked about this strange game. He would soar, nothing on his mind but the feel of the wind running through his feathers. Flying was his short moment of peace before the chaos would begin.

Stiles closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch it this time. Didn’t want to see himself destroying a stranger’s home, possibly taking their life in the process. He shoved down memories of the time he had hit a seemingly arbitrary box of TNT that some idiot had managed to leave in the middle of some kind of apartment complex of pigs. He had seen a lot of things that day.

Finally, after the seconds of flying that felt like hours to Stiles, there was impact. He bounced back off of whatever he had hit, straight up into the air, and came back down to rest upon it again. He didn’t hear any “poof” of destruction. No ice blocks breaking. No wooden slats losing balance. He opened his eyes.

There, lying beneath him and staring back up at him, was a helmeted pig. If you could call something that gorgeous a pig. How did a pig grow five o’clock shadow, anyway?

“I’m sorry!” was the first thing that came out of Stiles’ mouth as he attempted to clamber off of the strangely muscular pig. He had abs, for Christ’s sake!

The pig scoffed and turned away. Stiles glanced around the area. All of the other pigs in the region must have been destroyed by the others. This one was the only one left.

“I really am. Sorry, that is. I don’t- I don’t know why we do this to you guys. Why we don’t just talk about it. I mean, I know you steal our eggs, but-“

“I didn’t steal anyone’s eggs.” The pig growled out, looking back to Stiles.

“That’s what I mean! Not all of you guys stole our eggs, so why do we kill all of you? Why don’t we just have like a trial for the ones who did? I don’t understand our weird legal system, man.” The pig’s furious expression turned to one of curiosity, then sadness. Stiles stared, wondering how he had been trained to hate something so beautiful. And apparently now he was attracted to pigs? Okay, whatever. He could live with that.

“I’m sorry that my people killed your family, uh, pig.” Stiles ended lamely.

“My name is Derek.”

“Oh, uh. Hi, Derek. I’m Stiles. And I’m really, really sorry. It’s not fair, what we do to you. If you want, I could, uh, help you rebuild your weird tower thing? Maybe help make it more secure against the next round of birds that come in? I know their abilities. I can help you out.”

Derek locked eyes with Stiles, assessing him. He gave a curt nod, then turned to begin re-assembling the intricate stack of cement blocks and pieces of wood. Stiles raised his prominent black eyebrows, then set to work.

Stiles was there for hours helping Derek rebuild. They had even had some polite conversation along the way. Derek was apparently very emotionally constipated, but every once in a while would let out a quip or joke that made Stiles’ face light up. Derek asked Stiles what his ability was, when Stiles face grew even more red than usual as he admitted that there was nothing special about him. Derek gave him a strange look at that comment, but continued working after a moment.

Given that each of them lacked hands or any limbs at all, the process was a bit more arduous than Stiles had initially expected. However, in the end, they did manage to build an incredibly sound structure that no bird would be able to get past.

Which would be great, and all, but among those “no birds” was Stiles. Who had built himself into the box. With Derek.

After they finished, Stiles had turned to look at Derek with a satisfied face. Derek looked at Stiles, then back around at the structure, then back to Stiles, open-mouthed.

“How are you going to get out?” Derek asked, an unfamiliar expression on his face.

“Oh, uh,” Stiles turned to look for a door. But he hadn’t made a door. Because it would be too easily penetrable by birds. Stiles turned back to look at Derek, horror dawning on his face. “I-I-I don’t know! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, and now we’re, oh GOD, what is my dad going to think!” Stiles began pacing around the small room, looking at the walls and muttering about possible solutions.

“Stiles. Stiles! It’s fine!” Derek yelled, nudging at Stiles with his snout to stop him. Stiles stopped abruptly at the contact and turned to face him.

Stiles stared into those beautiful, only slightly bulgy black eyes, and in what must have been a fit of insanity, leaned in to give Derek a peck on the snout. Stiles pulled away quickly, blinking.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-“ Stiles was cut off by the pressure of a green snout soft against his beak. Allowing his eyes to flutter shut, Stiles leaned into the strange kiss, loving it more each second. After a few moments, they pulled apart, each smiling at the other.

“So,” Stiles said after a few moments of silence, curling up against Derek, “I take it this means I don’t have to leave just yet?”


End file.
